


The Seed of Life

by ravenbringslight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Anal Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Bottom Thor (Marvel), But also, Come Eating, First Time, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Loki is a twisty little shit, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Porn With Plot, Pre-Thor (2011), Protective Thor, Sibling Incest, Switching, Violence, a little bit of, all the kinds of sex you can think of, and, including a surprising amount of plot, like it's kind of the point of the story, little bit of, magical healing come, they do, we've got it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight
Summary: Thor finds Loki imprisoned, beaten, and starved - completely emaciated and so weak he cannot stand. He brings him home to Asgard but none of the healers' treatments seem to be working. Finally, Loki whispers a name, and Thor sets out to find the person who can tell him how to heal his brother.(smut, adventure, and loki being a little shit)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thoresque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoresque/gifts).



> For my darling friend Mona, who wanted [Loki eating Thor's magical healing come](https://raven-brings-light.tumblr.com/post/164561785371/chrisshemsworth-chrisshemsworth-thorki). :D How could I resist such a prompt?

When Loki had been gone for a week, Thor was out carousing with his friends. It wasn’t unusual for his brother to disappear for a short while, and he thought nothing of it. He and Volstagg ate a boar apiece that night; his unofficial drinking contest with Hogun ended with the other man sliding under the table to snore on the floor; and then, ruddy and full of good humor, he and Fandral had shared a woman. It had been an excellent night.

When Loki had been gone for a month, Thor started to feel a pang of unease. Loki was ever capricious, it was true, but he usually didn’t disappear for quite so long without sending some kind of word. Still, it was not completely unprecedented. Thor pushed his worry to the back of his mind. He and Sif were practicing a new grappling technique and he was perhaps a trifle rougher than he needed to be, not checking his blows as much as he usually did in sparring.

“Are you well, Thor?” Sif asked, wiping blood from her lip. “You seem distracted.”

Thor passed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Aye. Let’s go again.”

When Loki had been gone for three months, Thor brought his concern to Frigga.

“Has Heimdall seen him at all?” Thor pressed. “Has he sent you any word? You need not share specifics if he is being secretive, I just want to know that he is safe.”

“No, on all counts,” Frigga said, frowning. “But this is not the first time your brother has disappeared from Heimdall’s gaze. I counsel patience, my son. Loki will come back in his own time.”

Thor strode from her chambers with worry gnawing at his guts.

He knew his brother, and Loki didn’t usually disappear without some kind of provocation, usually from Thor himself. And as far as he was aware, he had done nothing to provoke him this time.

Was it possible someone else had gotten under Loki’s skin enough to make him flee? Who else could needle him so? Thor liked to think that that was his own particular specialty, and oddly he felt jealous that Loki should care enough about anyone else that he felt the need to leave Asgard to get away from them.

When Loki had been gone for six months, Thor mounted a search party.

*

They found him finally on Nidavellir. He was deep underground in a magic-dampened earthen cell, chained to the wall by his wrists and the floor by his ankles, slumped in on himself. He was naked, so thin that Thor could clearly count every rib, and his skin was waxy and gray, hanging off of his bones. At first, Thor wasn’t even sure it was actually his brother; this frail creature in front of him bore no resemblance to the Loki of Thor’s memory, and the lank fall of greasy hair obscured his face almost completely.

But Thor wrenched the bars apart with his bare hands and stepped into the cell, and when he pushed the prisoner’s hair back from his face Loki’s dull eyes peered back at him.

Grief and fury warred in Thor’s chest.

His brother had been _here_ the whole time, being starved and probably beaten and Norns only knew what else, while Thor and all the other Aesir sat idly by. He felt the gorge rise in his throat.

He would kill the dwarves for this. He would burn their wretched realm down to the bedrock and shit on their bones.

WIth shaking hands, he took up Mjolnir and struck Loki’s shackles. The sparks did not even make Loki flinch, not even when one landed on his cheek. Thor reached up and unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around his naked brother like he was a babe in swaddling clothes, and picked him up as if he weighed no more than the same.

“Come,” he ordered the soldiers standing outside the cell. “Let us away from this terrible place.”

He dropped a kiss on Loki’s ashen forehead. Loki’s eyes fluttered closed and he exhaled softly.

“Thor,” he breathed soundlessly, or maybe Thor only wished he heard it.

“I’m here,” Thor murmured. “You’re safe now.”

*

Asgard’s healers whisked Loki away almost the moment they set foot on the Bifrost.

The second Loki left his arms, Thor sagged. He had been in Nidavellir for three weeks and hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours the entire time. Mjolnir flew him directly to his chambers and he fell into his bed with his armor and boots still on, asleep before his head even touched the pillow.

Dreams came to him. He was in a palace carved of gems, wandering in endless circles. “Where is my brother?” he would call out, but only echoes answered him. He was floating in a hot spring, weightless, bobbing. Loki was supposed to be there, but the pool was empty but for himself and he started flailing in sudden panic. He was sinking, drowning. “Loki!” he cried, but there was no answer save a faint laughter on the wind. He was climbing a mountain, hand over hand over hand, and he pulled to eye level with a raven perched on an outcrop. One of its eyes was rotten and a worm dangled from it. “Hello,” the raven said. “Will this ever end?” Thor asked. “Not today,” said the raven, and took off with a buffet of wings directly in Thor’s face.

Thor woke in a cold sweat.

His armor was racked in the corner and he was clad in nothing but a breech cloth. He covered his face with his hands and was surprised to feel a full beard.

Groaning, he rolled over and pulled the cord to call his body servant.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asked while the man lathered his neck.

“Ten days, my lord,” the man said. The razor was very sharp and made a soft scraping noise as it sheared his beard away.

“Have breakfast brought to me here,” Thor said. “A great quantity of it.”

The kitchen was not unfamiliar with what “a great quantity” meant to Thor. Servants appeared shortly carrying platters upon platters of food; loaves of bread both sweet and savory, two dozen soft boiled eggs, whole rashers of bacon, blood pudding, porridge dripping with cream and honey, a tower of fruit, five different kinds of cheese, three cold chickens, pitchers of juice and cider and a flagon of ale. Thor ate it all but for the bones, and he would have eaten those too if he could have.

“Is my brother in his rooms?” Thor inquired when the servants came to clear the wreckage of breakfast.

“No, my lord,” one of the maidservants said, bobbing a curtsey.

“Then where is he?”

“Still in the healing chambers, my lord,” she said, tone neutral, carefully looking away.

Disquiet settled into Thor’s bones. “Thank you,” he said.

*

Loki had his own chamber in the healing wing, as befitted a prince. It was a snug stone affair with a large comfortable bed and a window that opened onto the gardens two stories down. Wall hangings made by Frigga’s own hand fluttered gently in the summer breeze; she had woven them herself when Thor and Loki were young to keep them company while they healed from their numerous youthful mishaps. Thor looked on them fondly for a moment, not daring yet to let his eyes come to rest upon his brother.

But he could not put off the inevitable. A padded chair stood at Loki’s bedside and Thor lowered himself into it. Gently, he took one of Loki’s hands in his own. It felt insubstantial, delicate, like Thor would crush his bones to dust if he exerted the slightest pressure.

“Why is he still here?” Thor said quietly, trying not to wake him. “Why has he not healed yet?”

“We don’t know, my lord,” Eir said. She stood somberly in the doorway, her hands clasped before her and her blue healer’s robes brushing the tips of her soft soled shoes. “We have placed him in the soul forge many times, but it has found aught amiss. We have been slowly increasing his food and water intake as tolerated, but -” She gestured. “As you can see, he is still in dire straits.”

Thor could hardly bear to look upon him. Loki looked half a skeleton, emaciated beyond belief, skin still waxy and gray, wrinkled. His eye sockets were like two holes in his face, deeply purple, his eyelids twitching fitfully.

“What did they do to him?” Thor asked Eir in a small voice, not taking his eyes from Loki.Then, softer, a whisper, “What did they do to you?”, kissing Loki’s knuckles and feeling the too-yielding flesh beneath his lips.

“Starved him, obviously. He has some poorly healed fractures consistent with blunt force trauma. We had to rebreak a few of them to set them properly. Bruising and infection on his wrists and ankles from the shackles and on his buttocks from being stationary for so long, dislocated shoulders and compromised circulation from his arms being over his head; he’s lucky he’s keeping his fingers. Other than that, I cannot say.”

“But why has he not _healed_?”

“I am sorry, my lord. We are doing everything we can.”

“Do better.”

The dismissal was clear. She nodded and shut the door behind her on the way out.

Thor permitted himself to sit at Loki’s bedside for an hour, to fall apart for an hour. He wept for his own stupidity and for the horrors that his brother had endured because of it. He wetted Loki’s hand with his tears, terrified to touch any other part of him lest he damage him further.

Finally, clear-eyed, he pressed Loki’s palm to his cheek.

“I will find a way to heal you, brother,” Thor vowed. “By Ymir’s bones and Adumla’s breath, I will find a way to heal you. And then we shall take our vengeance together. This I swear.”

*

“Father, we must go to war,” Thor said without preamble, striding into Odin’s study.

“Must we now?” Odin said mildly.

“This insult cannot be allowed to stand,” Thor said furiously. “The dwarves of Nidavellir kidnapped a _Prince_ of _Asgard_ and their lives should be forfeit.”

“The insult is as serious as you say,” Odin allowed. “But can we be sure it was the dwarves who were behind it?”

“Loki was imprisoned on Nidavellir in a dwarven cell and I personally slew ten dwarven guards set to watch him.”

“Ah, but who were they working for?” Odin said. “We cannot rush into war until we have all the facts.”

“Who cares who they were working for! They were dwarves, and they beat and starved Loki until he was three quarters dead!”

Odin sighed heavily. “You are too quick jumping to conclusions, my son. I have known the dwarven matriarch for longer than you’ve been alive. This plot has nothing of her authority about it, I am certain.”

“Then who?” Thor ground out. “Who shall pay for this?”

“Patience,” Odin said. “This is not a matter to be taken lightly. I have already dispatched our best agents to get to the bottom of this.”

“But -”

“Trust in your king.” Odin’s voice had the ring of finality.

“Yes, father,” Thor muttered.

*

A month passed, and then another, and Loki still failed to recover the way that anyone had hoped.

The kitchens prepared him the most nutritious of porridges and soup, made from soaked grains and marrow broth and herbs, soft cooked vegetables and tender morsels of meat, easy to digest and full of nutrients that Loki’s body needed to heal. They gave him the milk from Asgard’s best cows, and when that did not work they tried the colustrum from the new mothers of Odin’s prize herd. They gave him clear mountain water full of minerals, and raw honey full of royal jelly and propolis, and fish barely an hour out of the water.

And when none of that helped, they gave him potions and balms and herbal baths, took him in a wheeled chair out into the gardens to get sunlight, stuck his bare feet in the freshly turned earth (“to ground him properly” Eir explained, “attune him with the pulse of the land”). They tried magnetic fields and sticking his body with needles (“a barbaric practice from Midgard, but sometimes effective”).

And when none of that helped either, they called in the greatest healing minds from all over the Nine Realms.

“He needs his blood let,” said one.

“No, obviously his humors are imbalanced, he needs vigorous realignment,” said another. “I happen to have a medicine of my own design made specifically for such a purpose, my own blend of ox bile and various herbal preparations -”

“Nonsense,” said another. “Have you perhaps considered calling in a priest?”

Loki remained as gaunt and sickly as he had been the day they brought him home. His wounds had healed slightly, the infection where the shackles had rubbed at him starting to recede, his fractures beginning to knit together weakly, but in truth he was no better off than when Thor had found him near death in that cell.

And, most horrifyingly of all, Loki did not _speak_. His eyes opened, and he would follow a light passed in front of his face, but most of the time that he was awake he spent staring listlessly into space.

Thor came to his bedside every moment that he was able.

“Loki, it’s me,” he would say. “It’s Thor. Please, brother, you have to come back to us. To me. Please. Tell me how I can help you. These healers are useless. If it were me in that bed I know that you would find the cure within days, but it’s not me, it’s you, so you have to point me in the right direction. Help me help you.” He pressed fervent kisses to Loki’s knuckles and hair and temple. “Please.”

Loki only looked at him with empty eyes.

One day, Loki’s head turned slightly when Thor entered the room. An ecstatic thrill went down Thor’s spine.

“Loki?” he gasped, rushing to his brother’s side.

“Thor,” Loki murmured, closing his eyes. “Gerthe.”

“What?” Thor said. But Loki’s eyes remained closed and he seemed to have drifted off to sleep. A great sadness settled over Thor. Everything was wrong. Loki was supposed to be tall and strong and sharp-tongued - lithe, yes, but hearty of limb and not this hollow-cheeked death’s head; pale, yes, but the delicate ivory of water lilies and not this unnatural pallor. And always, always silver-tongued. Not silent. Never silent.

What had Loki said?

“Gerthe”?

Was that someone’s name?

It was the first that Loki had spoken since his rescue though, and Thor was determined to find out what it meant. It couldn’t mean nothing. Loki had dragged that word from his lips for some reason, and Thor would figure out what it was.

It took him another two weeks to find someone who knew what the name “Gerthe” meant, two weeks that he felt Loki could ill afford. Every day that passed made Thor unravel slightly more, become slightly more frantic.

But finally he found someone to whom the name meant something.

“Oh, old Gerthe? She was a healer in the capital a long time ago.” The old man Thor was talking to smacked his lips and ordered another drink from the tavern keep. It was hard to hear him over the noise of the common room around them, roaring fire and raucous laughter and the clack of dice.

“How long?” Thor asked, hope blooming in his chest. _A healer_.

“Long and long. Four millennia maybe?”

Thor watched with distaste as the man slurped mead through the gap in his front teeth.

“Could she still be alive?”

“Aye.”

“Why did she leave?”

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

“Where did she go?”

“The mountains.”

Thor ground his teeth.

“Which mountains?” he asked patiently, far more patiently than he wanted to. In truth he was ready to reach over and wring the man’s neck until the words spilled from his lips like water.

The man eyed him askance. “You know which mountains.”

“Ah,” Thor said, and suddenly he _knew_. Gerthe hadn’t left the capital, she’d been banished. Over the mountains to the north, hidden in a valley, was a settlement of other people that had also been banished but who didn’t want to leave Asgard. As long as they kept to themselves and pretended they didn’t exist, Asgard pretended they didn’t exist as well and turned a blind eye. It was mostly full of non-violent offenders, those who hadn’t wanted to abandon family members to go off-world.

It was just like his brother to send him haring after a criminal to get help.

“Thank you for your time,” Thor said, and tossed the man a gold sovereign, more than enough to cover all his drinks and more for at least the next week.

“Don’t be thanking me too much,” the man said, biting on the coin.

Thor didn’t even have time to wonder what he meant by that.

Mjolnir flew him back to the palace and he quickly threw a pack together. He knew that Odin and Frigga would probably not approve of this plan, and by extension Heimdall as well, so he decided to just fly there himself. Slower, perhaps, but he’d get there all the same.

He stopped by the healing wing on his way out.

“I found Gerthe,” he murmured in Loki’s ear, stroking his brittle hair. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

*

He flew until dawn, and touched down lightly at the edge of a field of sunflowers. A young girl saw him and, probably recognizing him, turned and fled. The bowl-shaped valley had been a pretty picture from the air, checkered with fields and dotted with small cottages. Down here in the bottom of it the sun hadn’t yet reached over the rim of mountain peaks, but the sky was painted pale pink and lilac and morning mist was rising from the grass.

The largest cluster of buildings was here, and Thor strode purposefully into their midst.

“Do you know a Gerthe?” he asked the first person he saw, a lad out pumping water, and the poor boy turned green with fright and ran inside. He met the same treatment again and again from each person he accosted until he was left standing in the middle of an empty square.

“You’re frightening them,” Thor heard a voice say from behind him, a bit quavery with age but strong all the same.

“Sorry,” he said, turning around to find a stooped old woman regarding him curiously. Her silver hair was pulled back from her face with an elaborate braid and she leaned heavily on a staff carved with a raven’s head. “Are you Gerthe?”

“I am.”

“Do you know my brother Loki?”

“I do.”

“We need your help.”

*

“You have all the subtlety of a raging boar,” Gerthe said tartly. She took the kettle off the fire with a hook and set it down on her scarred table. “How did you expect to find me like that?”

“Well, I did find you, didn’t I?” Thor said, amused. Her acerbic tongue reminded him of Loki and he liked her already.

He felt too big for Gerthe’s tiny cottage. It was a mad riot of herbs and vegetables and various bones and feathers hanging from the ceiling, and every available surface was covered in books and papers and jars and pots of things he had no idea how to even begin to identify.

“What kind of trouble has young Loki gotten himself into this time?” Carefully she poured boiling water into two mugs.

Thor’s brief amusement fled. “He is grievously ill,” he said, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. “We found him in a cell on Nidavellir, beaten and starved to the point of near-death, and it has been months since he came home but he grows no stronger. And his mind...it is like his mind has gone elsewhere. Asgard’s finest healers have been able to do nothing for him, nor those from Alfheim and Vanaheim”

“But he told you to come to me?”

“He has spoken two words since he came home,” Thor said, staring at his own knuckles. “My name, and yours.”

Gerthe snorted. “Well at least someone in that palace has some sense.”

“Can you help him?” Thor said earnestly, looking up into her face and capturing her eyes with his own. “Please.”

“No need to turn on the sultry gaze, young man,” she said shortly.

Thor’s lip quirked in amusement again. “‘Young man’? Not many would address a Prince of Asgard as such.”

“Well, since I am no longer a citizen of Asgard, I can address you however I wish.” She looked down her nose at him and raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness, then broke into a smile that Thor felt powerless not to return.

“Why are you here?” Thor said. “And no longer at the capital? Obviously my brother trusts in your healing abilities or he would not have sent me here.”

“Well that’s a tale for another time,” she said, busying herself with removing the teabags from their mugs. “But suffice it to say that my abilities were never in question.”

“Your methods then?”

She kept her eyes down but raised the corner of her mouth in half a smile. “Were unorthodox, yes.”

“But they work?”

She looked up and her eyes glittered in the firelight. “Yes.”

“Tell me,” Thor breathed. “Tell me how to fix him.”

“You’re not going to like it,” she said and pushed one of the mugs at him. “Drink.”

Thor drank.

“People call you the Thunderer, but there is another ability you have that is not quite so widely touted…”

*


	2. Chapter 2

Thor spat out his tea.

“What?”

“Surely you are aware of your own fertility powers,” Gerthe said, amused, sipping calmly from her own mug.

“Of course I am!” Thor sputtered. “But what you suggest is...outrageous!”

Gerthe shrugged. “I could spin you tales of a thousand other cures, and they would fail a thousand times over. Do you want what works or don’t you?”

“Of course I do! Loki is my brother and I would do anything to make him well again!”

“Then this is what you must do.”

“Are you sure you’re not just having a go at me?”

“ _Prince_ Thor, do you honestly think I would suggest feeding your brother your own seed unless it was the only available option?”

“Woman, I don’t know you at all and I have no idea _what_ you’re in the habit of suggesting. I’m starting to realize why you were banished in the first place.”

Gerthe laughed, loud and long.

“Loki trusts me,” she said. “He gave you my name, did he not? He knows the kinds of remedies I deal in, the lengths I’m willing to go to. And he sent you to me anyway. That should tell you something, should it not?”

“But...my own _spend_? My fertility powers have never required I do more than simply...be present.”

“And you have been present at your brother’s side and he has not recovered, correct?”

“...Aye.”

“Your seed contains the concentrated life essence of your powers of fertility. Think of it as...a ritual. Bestowing your blessing as it were.”

“Are you honestly suggesting that I somehow get my nearly catatonic brother to _suck my cock_?”

“Norns, boy, you’re definitely not the smart sibling are you? Think happy thoughts, obtain the required substance yourself, and put it in his soup. Or his porridge. Or whatever.”

“His soup.”

“Yes.”

Thor hid his face in his hands. In all the long years of his life, this was possibly - no, definitely - the strangest, most uncomfortable conversation he had ever had.

“And Loki will die if I don’t do this?”

“With certainty.”

How the old woman could sip her tea so serenely was infuriating.

“If this does not work, your head will be forfeit for the egregious insult you have bestowed upon our house,” he rumbled, trying to inject all the gravitas of his status into the pronouncement. He had seen seasoned warriors quail when he used that voice.

“So dramatic,” Gerthe clucked. “Such a puffed up wee popinjay you are. You’re going to clean that up, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“The tea you spat all over my table.”

Thor could only stare.

*

The flight home seemed over in half the time it had taken on the way out. Thor arrived just before the evening meal and he went to visit Loki straight away.

His brother’s condition was the same as it had been. The healers had propped him up on a chair so he could look out the window, but his eyes were unseeing and the hands that fell loosely in his lap had no strength to them. He looked as though an errant gust from the window might simply dissolve him like smoke.

Thor pulled a chair up next to him and took one lax hand in his own. Loki’s skin, once so firm, slid sickeningly on his bones.

“I spoke with Gerthe,” Thor murmured, for Loki’s ears only, even though there was no one else in the room. It seemed wrong to speak loudly. “I do not like what she told me. I do not think you will like it either. But if you wish it, I will do as she says.”

Loki’s index finger twitched almost imperceptibly. Thor might not have noticed it but that he was attuned to every flicker of movement that might pass across his brother’s features.

“You do wish it, then.”

Another flicker.

Thor kissed his sunken cheek.

“Very well. May you and the Norns both forgive me.”

He stopped by Eir on the way out.

“I would like to bring my brother his repast later.”

“Certainly, my lord.”

“Thank you.”

*

Thor was hardly in the mood to bring himself pleasure, but he retired to his chambers to try. The baths seemed the best place. Mercifully, he had private ones attached to his rooms, magically heated and always ready for use. He stripped naked and stepped into the largest of the sunken pools, willing his muscles to relax.

Fragrant soaps lined the walls in cubbies, and he chose one to lather himself with, chest and back, thighs up to the crease of his groin, then a few passes along his cock. It felt nice, but unsatisfying. He took himself in hand more firmly, stroking his length to full hardness, and still it felt nice, good even, but worry and guilt were gnawing at the back of his brain like Nidhogg at the roots of Yggdrasil. He knew his body and it was obvious that he would never reach completion in such a state of mind.

Frustrated, he tried to empty his thoughts, replace them with visions of satisfying sexual encounters from the past. The woman that he and Fandral had shared all those months ago, the wet slap of flesh as he’d fucked into her, her lusty cries, the perfume of her arousal.

Better, but still not good enough.

He palmed himself slowly as he searched for another fantasy, sliding up his shaft and fisting over the head, chasing that feeling of buildup.

Perhaps the young man he had passed a pleasant week on Alfheim with. The firm planes of his belly, his pert ass wiggling in the air, Thor’s own body writhing on the bed as the other man had pounded into him, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over…

This was yet better.

The niggling in the back of his mind was still there though, distracting him, making him think of Loki.

The young man in his fantasy had a full head of fiery red hair, but seemingly unbidden his features changed, and his hair turned black as ink and the face that looked down upon Thor was that of his brother.

“Ahhhhh,” Thor gasped as he came to the thought of Loki fucking him.

He grabbed the empty vial he’d placed at the pool edge and scraped in as much spend from his chest as he could, stoppering it up with a cork.

He finished bathing, but as he toweled himself off he’d never felt more unclean.

*

Thor kicked the door to Loki’s room shut and set the tray of food down on the small table at the foot of the bed. Loki was still staring out the window at the deepening dusk. The gardens spread out directly beneath them, and the palace walls rose just beyond them, and then the twinkling lights of the city beyond that. The fragrance of night-blooming jasmine wafted up from the trellis below the window.

Compulsively, Thor thumbed the vial clutched in his fist. He tried not to think about how he’d obtained the contents. He tried not to think about what he was about to do with them.

The contents disappeared into Loki’s cup of milk with nary a trace.

“Here, brother,” Thor said, bringing the cup to Loki’s lips. “Drink.”

He tipped the cup into Loki’s mouth, the tiniest sip. Loki’s throat muscles worked weakly to swallow it.

“A bit more,” Thor whispered. “Come on.”

He tipped the cup over and over again, and Loki swallowed all of it until there was nothing left but a few drops clinging to the sides. Grimly, Thor wiped out the inside of the cup, just in case anyone else should happen to touch it or, Norns help him, taste it.

Thor was no coward, but the thought of explaining himself if he was found out was enough to make his toes curl.

He fed Loki a bowl of porridge enriched with milk and honey as well, then wiped his mouth clean with a linen cloth. Gently, he lifted his brother, one arm under his knees and the other cradling his shoulders, and tucked him into bed like a babe.

As he made his way back to his own chambers he realized he hadn’t slept in two days. It was ironic, then, that sleep didn’t find him that night either.

*

Thor had not dared to hope that Gerthe’s “cure” would actually work, let alone that it would work so _quickly_. But when he went to visit Loki the next morning, he was greeted with a flurry activity in the healing wing.

He caught one of the apprentices by the arm. “What has happened? What is going on?”

“It’s Prince Loki!” she said breathlessly.

“Is he well?” Thor asked, panic rising in his chest. If what he had done had hurt Loki in any way, he was prepared to take up Mjolnir in an instant and fly straight to the mountains -

“Oh yes, my lord! Come see!”

Thor burst into Loki’s room. His brother was in his customary chair by the window, but when Thor took another tentative step into the room Loki _turned his head_ and _smiled_ and Thor nearly fainted in relief. He rushed to kneel at Loki’s feet, take both hands in his own.

“It has worked, then,” Thor said, searching Loki’s eyes. Yesterday they had been unseeing, but today they looked back at him, that old familiar spark lighting in their emerald depths.

“What has worked?” Eir said, bustling into the room. She fussed over Loki, checking his pulse, peering into his eyes, his ears, his mouth.

“Oh, I, ah, nothing,” Thor said, mortified. “I merely fed Loki with my own hand last night and, ah, prayed to the Norns that my love for him might...heal him?”

He swore he could see amusement dancing in Loki’s eyes and he fought the urge to elbow him and smile himself. He knew his excuse was appallingly pathetic and his demeanor incredibly guilty, but he also knew he was the Prince and that Eir was required to take him at his word.

She gave him a long look.

“Well, your ‘prayers’ have been answered, apparently,” she said. “Come, Prince Loki, let us place you in the soul forge again today and see what has changed.”

*

In the following weeks, Thor discharged as many of his royal duties as he was able to get away with and took over all of Loki’s meals himself.

Every night after tucking Loki into bed, he would go to his own chambers and stroke himself to release, and more often than not it was to thoughts of his green-eyed brother. After the first few times Loki crept into his fantasies uninvited, Thor stopped resisting and just gave in to the perversion. How could it be any worse than what he was already doing, secretly feeding Loki his come? Perhaps it even helped, perhaps it charged his seed with his intention that his brother be made well.

If it were even his seed that was helping at all, and not mere coincidence.

Maybe Loki would have started getting better on his own anyway.

But such thoughts were not worth entertaining.

Every night he regarded the vial of pearly white cream that he collected. Did it really contain magic life essence? It had never seemed so before. It looked the same as any other spend he had ever seen.

It was impossible to deny that Loki was finally starting to recover, though.

His infected wounds finally cleared completely; his bones finally started knitting strongly together. He’d put on weight too; his cheeks were not yet what any could call plump, but they had lost their hollow cast, and his ribs were no longer countable. While he’d never be as ruddy as Thor, his complexion was definitely becoming closer to “creamy” than “sallow.” Even his hair, which had turned brittle and thin, was becoming more thick and lustrous.

And, most heartening of all, he had begun to speak. Still not often, and still not many words at a time, for it seemed to tax him greatly, but he was speaking.

“It is a miraculous turnaround,” Eir said to Thor one morning. “Quite miraculous.” Thor hadn’t known her eyebrow could lift that high. “It strains credulity, really.”

“Aye, well, only the Norns themselves know what they’ve woven for us,” Thor said with as bland a tone as he could manage. “Perhaps it was simply not time for Loki’s thread to be cut.”

“Perhaps.”

It was astounding the amount of skepticism able to be crammed into two syllables.

Thor dismissed her and set about feeding Loki his breakfast ration of...life essence. He refused to think of it in crasser terms lest it become too much for him to bear. The weight of guilt was a heavy mantle around his shoulders still.

Emboldened by his initial success, he had eventually worked up to dosing Loki morning, noon, and night, liberally stirring the...life essence...into everything from soup to rice to yogurt, working it into his noodles, incorporating it into his porridge, blending it into sauces.

And damnably, Thor’s nightly fantasies began to bleed into the day. With his broad back turned to Loki in order to obscure his actions he would adulterate his brother’s food, then watch with quickening breath as Loki ate every bite. He ate slowly, frequently making eye contact with Thor the entire time, his nimble lips and tongue laving every speck of food from the spoon that Thor placed in his mouth, the muscles of his neck working finely to swallow everything that Thor fed him. Every drop. Every creamy, pearlescent drop.

“More,” Loki would breathe, and Thor felt like his own breath might cease.

It was excruciatingly arousing.

Sometimes Thor would find himself growing hard watching the nearly obscene way Loki ate. Sometimes he would find himself growing hard just preparing the tray in the first place.

Procuring Loki’s cure was becoming easier and easier. In fact, nowadays he wished to do little else.

He began to imagine what it would be like to simply give it to Loki straight. Paint his lovely creamy skin with strings of pearls and rub it in like a balm. Watch him lick it off of those long slim fingers. The way Thor’s cock would look against Loki’s cheek, in his mouth, stretching his wicked pink lips, the noises he might make as Thor fucked in and spent down his throat. Those big green eyes looking up at him through lashes wet with tears.

Thor felt the hunger in his own gaze as he spooned cold fruit soup into Loki’s mouth this morning. The soup was the deep red of ripe cherries and it stained Loki’s lips and tongue, inviting Thor to reach down and taste it straight from his brother’s mouth. He wondered if he might taste himself as well, and the thought gave him a pleasant thrill.

What a lowly beast he had become.

“How does it taste, brother?” he asked.

“Good,” Loki said. “Sweet. More please?” He licked his lips and opened his mouth expectantly, the shape of it making a sweet delicate O, his eyes dancing merry green fire.

Thor nearly groaned.

Three perfect cherry halves floated in the middle of the soup in a small swirl of cream, and some impulse made Thor reach in and pluck one out with his fingers instead of the spoon, and hold the cherry to the ring of Loki’s lips.

Loki took it from his fingers with a dainty scrape of teeth and a deliberate swipe of moist pink tongue.

Thor was certain he did make a noise at that point.

“I am sorry, brother, I have some other duties I must attend to this morning; I will fetch a healer to finish your breakfast.” Thor stood in a rush, throwing himself out the door, and Loki’s amused gaze followed him the whole way.

*

As Loki regained more strength, Thor began taking him around the palace in a wheeled chair. They became a familiar sight to the staff, the two Princes ambling about the grounds, one thin and pale and swathed in blankets, and one large and blonde and attentive to the other’s every need.

Sometimes when no one else was around Loki would raise one hand and Thor would stop and help him from the chair and they would continue together on foot. Loki would lean heavily on Thor’s arm, trusting Thor to hold his entire weight as he tried to regain the coordination and strength of his legs. It made Thor’s chest ache with fierce love that Loki trusted him enough to put himself so completely at Thor’s mercy like that.

If Thor enjoyed the contact more than was strictly appropriate he tried not to let on.

But Loki never seemed to shy away from any touch or gaze that Thor bestowed upon him, and it made Thor grow bolder. He began to let his hands linger and told himself that it was only wishful thinking that Loki leaned into his touch as well.

His imaginings only grew in strength and intensity as well. He began to dream about what it would be like to bury himself between his brother’s creamy thighs, to work him open until he could shove his cock into that exquisite tightness. How he would fill Loki with seed until he was dripping with it, until it ran down his thighs in sticky rivulets to puddle beneath him, and then Thor would do it again.

Oh, the sounds Loki made in Thor’s dreams.

Sometimes Thor would bring a stack of books with him when he came to Loki's chamber in the morning and point at them one by one. Each would be discarded with a shake of Loki’s head until Thor’s finger would light upon the proper title. “That one,” Loki would say.

Thor would sit and read to him. Sometimes he’d wheel Loki out to the gardens and they would read under the shade of a willow tree. Sometimes they would settle next to the fish pond and Loki would let the goldfish nibble his fingertips as Thor read. Sometimes they stayed in Loki’s room, and Loki’s hand would creep over to rest on Thor’s knee; Thor would inch closer, and then Loki would make a small sound of frustration and Thor would give up and climb in the bed with him and spend the rest of the time reading with Loki’s slight weight nestled into his side. Those times were Thor’s favorites.

One morning Thor jerked himself off to a particularly vivid mental image of himself fucking Loki’s throat and watching it distend as he thrust, putting his hand on Loki’s neck to feel himself move in and out. It made him come so hard his vision whited out for a moment, and he stoppered the seed up with shaking hands.

When he got to Loki’s chamber in the healing wing, he was already sitting up in bed, hair freshly brushed, his green dressing robe open just enough to expose the dip of his collarbone; the morning sun slanted through the window, highlighting all the fine new flyaway hairs that had started growing and painting his angular cheek in a wash of pale gold. He had never looked more beautiful.

Thor mixed his vial into the rice pudding that morning. Loki’s eyes were bright on him when he turned around. 

Gently scooping up a spoonful, he brought it to Loki’s mouth, but Loki turned his head away. Thor frowned.

“What is it, brother?” he asked. “You must eat. Gerthe’s remedy will not work unless you do.”

Loki turned back towards him. “Not the spoon,” he said.

“Not the…?”

Thor stared at him for a moment and Loki stared back, a challenge. _Figure it out, brother_ , he seemed to say.

Carefully, not breaking eye contact, Thor dipped his finger into the bowl. Loki smiled.

Slowly, thoroughly, he licked Thor’s finger clean and then kept suckling.

The air seemed to have stopped moving in Thor’s lungs, or perhaps he had just forgotten how to breathe.

Thor replaced his index finger with his thumb, and Loki sucked on that too, and Thor wrapped the rest of his fingers under Loki’s jaw.

Loki whimpered.

Before he knew what he was doing, Thor crushed their lips together, sliding his hand up to tangle in Loki’s hair and pull him impossibly closer. Loki’s hands came up to his cheeks, as soft and insubstantial as dandelion down and he gasped into Thor’s mouth.

Thor pulled back slightly, panting, horrified at his trespass and yet not regretting an instant of it.

“Yes?” he asked, lust and guilt battling beneath his breastbone.

Loki stroked his bottom lip with one thumb and then leaned in to nip it gently. “Yes.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter by the fabulous stmonkeys, who you may have seen from her awesome work on [Facing the Vast](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5620207/chapters/12946867) and [A Guy Could Do Worse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10426608/chapters/23021781). Thank you so much!! It's very NSFW, so please avert any eyes that shouldn't be seeing it. :D I'm putting it as a link you have to click on just in case (but really, why are you reading this fic in a work environment anyway?!)
> 
>  
> 
> [DELICIOUS AMAZING NSFW ARTWORK HERE](http://imgur.com/MvhZlsY)

Thor rose from Loki’s bedside cradling the bowl of rice pudding in his hands and walked slowly over to the sideboard to set it down. Loki’s heavy lidded eyes followed him from where he sat at the head of the bed, and indeed Thor could not look away from Loki either; their gazes were locked on to each other as surely as predator and prey. Thor was not certain which of them was which.

He set the bowl down almost absently, not watching what he was doing, and threw the bolt on the door the same way, then paced back to the side of the bed and stood looking down at his brother. Loki looked back up at him and cocked his head, one eyebrow raised, considering.

They regarded each other for one long moment, perhaps the most important moment yet of their lives. For this one moment, countless potential futures hung suspended like motes in a sunbeam, each glittering speck bursting with possibility.

It was Loki, ever mercurial, who collapsed them all into a singularity.

He reached for Thor’s hand and pulled him down into a featherlight kiss. It wasn’t a proper kiss, not really, more the barest brushing of noses and lips and a shared inhalation, but it had the momentum of centuries behind it, the weight of a mountain range, and Thor felt himself knocked flat. 

“I’m going to do more than kiss you,” Thor said, a warning. 

Loki looked at him almost curiously, then slid his hand up Thor’s arm to his chest, up his neck, ran his fingertips through Thor’s beard and into the hair at his temple, and tugged. Thor turned his head slightly.

“I’m going to do more than touch you,” he murmured, licking at Loki’s wrist.

Loki leaned up and put his mouth directly on Thor’s ear, his breath hot and damp and dizzying.

“Promises, promises,” he whispered. 

The words sizzled, electric, in a straight line down to Thor’s cock. He climbed onto the bed and straddled Loki’s lap, knees folded and sitting on his heels to keep his weight off his brother's slight frame. Cupping Loki’s neck, he angled his face up until he could slot their mouths together.

With sure purposeful movements Loki twined his arms around Thor’s waist and molded himself to his chest, head tipped back all the way to his shoulders to give Thor access to his mouth, his neck. Thor devoured every inch of that pale throat, felt the vibrations under his lips as Loki gasped tiny sounds of pleasure. He smelled of mint and anise and jasmine and Thor chased the scent, nosing in behind Loki’s ear, along his jaw, until they were kissing again, licking into each other’s mouths with eager tongues.

Loki was still so weak. Thor was overly conscious of his own bulk and strength but he didn’t want to be gentle. He wanted crush Loki to the bed, to bruise and bite and claim, to spear him open and fuck him and be fucked by him until they found absolution for this depravity on each other’s cocks.

But instead he held Loki’s face tenderly and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. Everything felt pulled tight, thrumming with tension and ready to snap.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

Loki reached up one hand and pulled sharply on Thor’s earlobe.

“Oaf,” he said, his look knowing and full of suppressed mirth.

Thor growled and gathered Loki in by the small of the back and ran a line of hungry kisses down his neck, pushing his dressing robe open to expose the sharpness of his collarbone, scraping his teeth along it while Loki hissed in pleasure.

Slim fingers ran up his thighs to fumble at the laces of his breeches and then Loki’s hand was on his cock, freeing it. 

Thor knew he was big. There was no sense in being falsely modest about it. He was used to the gasps of surprise and shock, looks of both anticipation and dread. His partners’ faces twisted in agony and pleasure both as they took him in.

The thought now of his brother’s head thrown back, his mouth fallen open and his brows knit upward in ecstasy as Thor worked his cock into him, made a low groan escape the back of Thor’s throat. He had never wanted anything more in his life.

Loki wrapped a hand around his length and tugged him upwards until Thor was kneeling before him. He milked one perfect drop from the fat head of Thor’s cock and lapped at it with the tip of his pink tongue, looking up at Thor and smirking.

He patted at the breeches still bunched around Thor’s thighs. “Off,” he ordered.

Thor obeyed, shucking them off and straddling Loki once more, his cock bobbing hard and red right at the level of Loki’s lips. He couldn’t resist the impulse to grab himself at the base and rub the head of his cock on Loki’s mouth and cheeks, and Loki nuzzled into it like a cat, licking with small delicate darts of his tongue and practically purring. This should feel unreal and yet it had happened so many times in Thor’s imagination that it seemed only natural, the proper order of things.

What his imagination had failed to supply were the intensity and directness of Loki’s gaze, which he had turned on Thor with full force. It was hard to breathe under the weight of it. Any misgiving he may have had that Loki didn’t want this as much as Thor did melted away under the heat of that look.

He took Thor’s length in both his hands and laved his tongue from root to tip, swirling around the head before licking his way messily back down and then doing it all over again. And again. Thor held onto the headboard with trembling arms as Loki worshipped his cock with his tongue and his hands, sliding his fist over flesh now slick from spit and precome, planting sloppy kisses and rubbing his thumb over the slit of his cockhead.

The urge to thrust into Loki’s throat was almost overpowering, but Loki was still so frail he didn’t want to hurt him... 

Loki swallowed him down as far as he could, his cheeks hollowing, and Thor did buck then, just a little. Loki planted his hands on Thor’s hips for leverage and pulled him in, humming encouragement, and Thor let go.

Helplessly, he fucked into the back of Loki’s throat. Loki’s fingers on his hips spurred him onward, digging in, holding him fast, asking for more. Thor gave it to him until he was gagging, pushing Thor away; but it was only for a breath and then he dove back in. Thor felt the electricity start to build deep inside him, gathering charge.

The image Thor had jerked off to that morning came unbidden into his mind, of fucking down Loki’s throat until it distended. He knew that he couldn’t do it this very instant but the thought that he might be able to in the future brought him teetering to the edge. He heard nonsense escaping from his own throat, _Ahh, Loki, fuck_ , and the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of Loki’s mouth, and suddenly he was there.

He pulled out and fisted himself twice and then he was spending all over Loki’s face. It felt endless, waves of electric pleasure fountaining out of him to land in spurts on Loki’s cheek, his closed eyelids, into his still open mouth.

He was so overcome with emotion he nearly wept at the sight.

Deliberately, Loki licked the seed that had landed near his lips. Thor’s breath caught. Dropping down to his haunches, he took Loki’s face in his hands. Slowly, he gathered up more seed with his thumbs and pushed it into Loki’s waiting mouth, and again, until nothing was left but the sticky cream matting Loki’s eyelashes together.

He had watched Loki eat his spend every day for weeks but it was nothing compared to this.

Thor leaned in for a kiss then, open mouthed and sloppy, chasing the taste of himself on his brother’s tongue. He nearly grew hard again just thinking of it.

“Your turn,” he said, reaching between Loki’s legs, but a gentle hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Tomorrow,” Loki said.

“Tomorrow?”

A single long blink. _Yes_.

“Clean me?”

Thor dipped a cloth into the washbasin in the corner and tried to erase the traces of their debauchery. Loki’s eyes drifted closed as Thor wiped him clean, and by the time Thor was done his brother appeared to have fallen asleep entirely.

He arranged the pillows to prop Loki up more comfortably and pulled his dressing gown snugly closed, then pressed a long kiss to his forehead.

“Tomorrow.”

*

In truth, Thor was busy the rest of the day. He had been wondering how he would get out of his duties to tend to Loki the way he had been, but after the morning’s...infusion...directly from the source and Loki’s promise of “tomorrow,” he was more than happy to let the healers take over for the rest of the day.

He supposed he should feel bad. Guilty. He had definitely felt so when he first began administering his spend in Loki’s food. But to see his brother begin to heal because of it, and to see how this morning he had been as hungry for Thor as Thor was for him, well…

The only regret he could feel right now was that other people should find what they were doing wrong.

But he himself had no such compunction any longer.

He should probably tell Loki about the food though.

That night he left off pleasuring himself for the first time since he’d been to see Gerthe. _Tomorrow_ , Loki had said, and tomorrow Thor meant to give his remedy directly to him again. Perhaps several times. In a row. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

When he arrived at Loki’s healing chamber the next morning it was to another flurry of activity.

“Is my brother well?” he demanded of the first healer he saw.

“Quite well, actually.”

Thor whipped around in shock to see Loki standing behind him, clad in a green crossover tunic and soft black leggings, his hands clasped behind his back. A knowing smile played upon his lips. His voice was strong, velvety, nothing like the weak thread it had been yesterday.

“My recovery seems to have taken another upswing,” he said, pacing forward until he was close enough that Thor could reach out and touch him.

“Indeed,” Eir said, swishing around the corner and giving Thor one of her skeptical looks. “Another miraculous upswing. Come, my lord, let us examine you in the soul forge once more.” Loki cast a smirk at Thor over his shoulder as he was ushered off.

It turned out that Loki was finally being discharged from the healing wing to his own chambers, with strict orders to check back in every morning for monitoring. Thor stood by the empty bedside that his brother had occupied for the past months and felt a vague sense of loss. This room had been his world, their world, since he had rescued Loki from that dismal cave. These four walls had witnessed so much. Frigga’s wall hangings stared down at him in silent reproach.

He had not been expecting what they had done yesterday to have such an effect on Loki’s healing, but apparently it had, and he hated himself for wishing perhaps that it had not worked quite so well. That he could have his brother all to himself for just a bit longer.

It was selfish, he knew. Loki didn’t belong to him.

_But you want him to._

_No. We should belong to each other._

He must have been there for awhile lost in thought, for Loki slipped up beside him, the healers done with him at last.

“Any morning after regrets, brother?” Loki murmured.

“No,” Thor said simply. “And you?”

Loki smiled, all teeth. “How could I have? I am standing here now, am I not, and no longer trapped in that bed like an invalid?”

It was not the answer Thor might have wished to hear, and it took a moment for the implications to sink in.

“You knew what I was putting in your food, then?” he asked, taken aback.

“Oh my sweet, stupid brother,” Loki said, stepping close and laying one hand on Thor's cheek. “I knew from the first sip.”

“And yet you…”

“Yes.”

Thor inhaled sharply and Loki leaned in and kissed him, languorously, thoroughly, until they were both melting into each other.

“I am not yet back to full health,” Loki said, eyes glittering in the morning light. “Perhaps you'd like to help me with that.”

*

Loki's old rooms were still being prepared, so they retired to Thor's instead.

“I still have the stink of the healing chamber on me. I should like to bathe first,” Loki said, loosening his tunic. Then, eyeing Thor sidelong, “And perhaps after, as well.”

Thor checked the bolt on his door three times while he waited. He could not help but imagine Loki in the baths, shrugging out of his tunic, those angular clavicles in stark relief, his hair curling damply in the steam. How he would step out of the puddle of his leggings and dip his toe in the water before stepping in. Those long-fingered hands, so deft, stroking his own length to hardness. 

In the fantasy Thor merely watched as Loki pleasured himself, an invisible bystander only, and even that was enough to rouse his own manhood until it strained uncomfortably at his breeches.

Loki emerged from the baths wrapped loosely in one of Thor’s robes, the burgundy looking as deep as a bruise next to Loki’s pale skin. The robe was ridiculously large; it kept slipping from the gentle slope of Loki’s shoulder. Thor wanted to bite it.

Thor was sitting on a divan at the foot of the bed and he held his arms open wide. Loki stepped into the circle of them and Thor pressed his face to Loki’s flat belly and they held each other for a moment.

“Happy to see me already?” Loki said softly, not having missed the impressive bulge in the front of Thor’s breeches.

“You know I am,” Thor said, looking up but not relinquishing his hold around Loki’s waist. “I always am, even when I’m not.”

“Oaf,” Loki said. He pushed Thor in the middle of his forehead with the heel of his palm, but his eyes were fond.

Thor moved his hands to Loki’s bare thighs, slid his touch up underneath the hem of the robe and over the round curve of his buttocks. His flesh was firm and yielding, such a far cry from the wasted slip of a body that Thor had carried home.

“These fit perfectly,” he said, squeezing one cheek in each hand.

Loki exhaled with a small _nnn_ when Thor nosed the front of the robe open and took Loki’s cock in his mouth. He stared down at Thor with parted lips while Thor bobbed on his cock, kneading and squeezing his ass with both palms. Thor felt a pressure at the corner of his mouth; Loki’s thumb. He sucked that in too and ran his tongue over both the finger and the head of Loki’s cock.

“Stop,” Loki said, pushing him off, voice rough.

“Why?” Thor felt himself panting.

“Because I want to fuck you.”

Thor let himself be pushed back into the corner of the divan while Loki stripped him bare and lapped at the skin of his chest and stomach. He’d had the foresight to get the oil while he had been waiting for Loki, and Loki grabbed it now, pouring a generous amount on both of them.

Thor had ruined furniture in much less pleasant ways than this.

He supposed it should feel stranger, having his brother’s fingers in his most intimate of places, stretching him open, but in truth it felt they had always been this intimate; he had not balked nearly enough at Gerthe’s cure, nor at the way Loki’s face and body had crept so easily and thoroughly into his fantasies, nor at Loki’s brazen invitation.

Now they just had another way to express that intimacy. It was as natural as the sun rising, as water falling, as drawing in a lungful of cool sweet air.

“See how your body takes me so greedily,” Loki murmured, a lascivious echo of his thoughts, pushing himself into Thor’s slick hole.

“Brother,” Thor groaned.

“Yess,” Loki hissed, slamming in the last inch and making them both cry out.

Loki fucked into him slow and deep and it was so much like Thor’s first vision of him when he had replaced the redhead in Thor’s memory that he felt nearly delirious. Thor pushed his hips up to meet each thrust, huffing out a little _uh_ each time Loki slammed home. Mindlessly he reached up to stroke his own cock but Loki shoved his hand away.

“That’s...mine,” Loki grunted.

Loki crushed their mouths together as he came, biting Thor’s lip so hard that Thor tasted blood. The pain was nothing, not when Loki was pumping his own seed deep inside Thor and breathing his breath.

Loki regarded Thor’s mouth when he pulled back, then dipped his index finger in the spot of red and smeared it down Thor’s chin.

“On your back,” Thor growled, pushing Loki backwards until his head was at the foot of the divan. Thor could feel his thighs dripping. Loki laughed until Thor crawled up his body, smearing them both with Loki’s spend, and filled his laughing mouth with cock.

“Mine,” Loki said again, dancing his tongue around the head of Thor’s cock. He was using one hand to twist up and down Thor’s shaft and the other to sneak around to Thor’s still-wet hole, crooking his finger inside until he found the spot he was looking for and Thor groaned out loud.

“Spill for me,” he whispered, then swallowed Thor as far down as he could.

Thor did, right on command, coming in thick waves down Loki’s throat, and Loki drank every drop.

They bathed together afterwards and then fell into Thor’s bed together until their stomachs roused them for lunch. They dressed to avoid suspicion and Thor summoned servants with trays of food. 

“I still need to sleep and heal and suck your cock for at least another week,” Loki said, breaking a loaf of bread apart with his hands and smearing it with butter and preserves. “Although it is truly impressive how much more potent it is coming directly from you. It may have taken months otherwise.” He chewed thoughtfully.

“And after a week?”

“Well, I shan’t need to sleep and heal so much.” He quirked an eyebrow and Thor laughed.

“Good. It will leave more time for cock sucking.” Thor dodged the grape that Loki threw at his head.

“And then we plan,” Loki said, suddenly grim.

“Revenge?” Thor asked, settling quickly into solemnity himself.

“Aye. Revenge.”

“We have been trying to figure out who your captor was,” Thor started. “You were on Nidavellir in a dwarven cell and guarded by dwarven soldiers, but father does not believe -”

“You may stop your search,” Loki said. “I know who it was.”

“You do?” Thor asked, surprised. “Why did you not tell me sooner?”

“Do you honestly think you would have waited until I was healed to go haring off? I know you, brother, you would have been out the door in an instant swearing vengeance and blood.”

“...Aye,” Thor admitted. “I would have.”

“So I kept my peace. But no longer. It was Amora,” Loki said, spitting her name out like a curse.

“But why?”

“She hates me and she wanted to start a war, so she figured she’d kill two birds with one stone. Luckily father had enough sense not to fall for it.” Loki drained his wine goblet in one pull. “Come,” he said, dragging Thor out of the sitting room and back into the bedroom. “I want you to fuck me this time.”

“Wait a moment,” Thor said, pulling him up short. He put his hands on Loki’s upper arms, still too thin, and leaned in to rock their foreheads together. “Kiss me first.”

Loki tilted his mouth up and Thor tasted it, sweet and soft and perfect.

“How did this happen?” he murmured against Loki’s lips.

Loki skimmed his tongue from Thor’s chin up his lips to the tip of his nose. “How could it not?”

***


	4. Chapter 4

Thor and Loki spent the next eight days in a sweat-damp semen-soaked haze, consecrating every available surface in every conceivable manner in both of their chambers.

Mornings in Thor’s past had usually been a time for languid lazy sex; waking up to a warm body next to his and easing into a comfortable sleepy rhythm. With Loki, mornings were something different entirely. The two of them never spent the night in each other’s chambers, so when Loki sought Thor out after breakfast (or vice versa) they fell on each other almost savagely trying to make up for the time spent apart.

Thor would throw his brother over the edge of the bed and drive himself deep into his guts, lifting Loki bodily with each brutal thrust until he was reduced to whimpering sobs; and then after filling Loki to the brim, Thor would watch with his breath frozen in his lungs as Loki dipped his fingers into his own hole and licked them clean, or let Thor’s thick fingers do the work for him.

Or sometimes Loki would push Thor onto the furs in front of the hearth and hold his head down while he pounded in slowly and methodically until Thor was begging for _faster, please Loki_ ; and Loki, smiling, his voice all honeyed warmth, would refuse - until Thor had broken down and begged at least twice more and Loki was at least as desperate himself.

“You are mine,” Loki ground out, low and rough.

“Yes,” Thor agreed, happy beyond measure to be wrapped around Loki’s little finger so.

Thor spent for Loki at least three times a day, sometimes more. They fucked each other’s mouths, each other’s hands; rutted between each other’s thighs; opened each other up with fingers and tongues and once, memorably, the bumpy end of one of Loki’s wands. Often, Thor would finish by kneeling over Loki’s face and painting him in dripping stripes. Spending directly into his mouth was easier, and he loved to do that too, but this way he got to watch Loki lick himself clean like a cat.

Their rooms must have been rank with the smell of sex, Thor was sure. If the servants noticed they said no word, and Thor made no apology either.

He and Loki were the Sons of Odin and they would do as they pleased.

Conversation was mostly easy, light, about anything other than what was important. A few times Thor tried to veer talk towards what had happened to Loki in the six months he had disappeared, but a cloud would fall over his face and Thor would get no kind word from him for the next several hours; not until Thor had apologized by burying his tongue into Loki’s ass until his jaw ached, or fingered him with lightning sparking on his fingertips until he came shuddering and bucking and biting his own hand to swallow his screams.

All of it was hungry work and Thor called down to the kitchens again and again. Loki’s appetite increased as he healed as well, until they were both consuming enough for at least three grown men apiece.

“It is well that the fucking takes so much energy,” Loki huffed between thrusts. “Otherwise I might grow fat.”

“Except it makes you, _ahh_ , hungrier. It’s a vicious cycle my poor... _nnnngh_...chubby brother.”

The goading only made Loki fuck harder.

Evenings were the slow time, the time for gentle caresses and the long unhurried slide of their exhausted bodies.

Loki seemed more unguarded then, more patient, and Thor took it to the fullest advantage. He lavished Loki with kisses, mapping out his body in physical touch; here the soft peak of a rosy nipple, the shallow dip of the navel; there the downy fine hair of a thigh, the delicate bones of a wrist. No matter how much Loki gave him, Thor never had his fill. He was sure he could do this every night for the rest of their lives.

Night was the time that Loki would sometimes let Thor twine their fingers together over their heads as they moved together face-to-face, or across Loki’s belly as Thor spooned him from behind, his cock sliding between Loki’s thighs until the tip showed from the front.

“Will you still come to me once you don’t need my seed anymore?” Thor asked one night from where he knelt between Loki’s legs. He knew he’d asked before, but Loki hadn’t answered him, not truly, and he wanted to hear it.

“Oaf,” Loki said, pushing him away with a foot to the chest and avoiding the question, but letting Thor lean back in and swallow him down all the same.

On the evening of the eighth day, Thor rose after the servants finished clearing dinner to lock the door, but Loki stopped him.

“Let me.”

The bolt slid home with a flick of Loki’s fingers from across the room.

“Your magic!” Thor said, beaming. “You have control of it again!”

The thought didn’t seem to make Loki as happy as it made Thor.

That night, Loki climbed across Thor’s hips and rode his lap, his inky hair falling in loose waves over his face, one of Thor’s huge hands on his throat squeezing just slightly. His trembling lips sought Thor’s and he gasped into them softly as he spilled in thick spurts over their stomachs. He collapsed into Thor’s neck as limp as a ragdoll afterwards and let Thor put his arms around him and fuck up into him until he’d spent as well.

They lay like that for some time, half propped up against Thor’s headboard, their come-slick bellies pressed together. Thor idly stroked Loki’s side with his thumb and Loki burrowed his face deeper into Thor’s shoulder, wordless and intimate. A tender ache spread through Thor’s chest.

“I should go,” Loki said finally.

“Rest well,” Thor said, kissing the top of his head.

It was only after Loki left that Thor realized he hadn’t swallowed any of his seed that night.

*

Loki came to Thor’s rooms the next morning, but instead of the usual soft lounging clothes he had been wearing in his convalescence he was encased head-to-toe in his old armor, his hair slicked severely back and his expression shuttered.

“We need to go see Gerthe,” he said. “She has something I need.”

“We?” Thor asked. He had been looking forward to the morning’s exertions and was mildly disappointed that they weren’t already falling upon each other. Going on an adventure was a close second though, and if it aided in their quest for revenge, so much the better.

“Yes, of course. I may have been a bit under the weather but my ears never ceased functioning. I seem to recall you swearing vengeance on my behalf by Ymir’s bones and so forth. Are you coming with me or not?”

His tone was brisk and businesslike but Thor knew him well enough to detect a thread of stress lying underneath it.

“We’ll have to fly,” Loki added with a moue of distaste. “Much as I am loathe to admit it.”

Thor grinned. Sailing through the air with Mjolnir in one hand and his brother in the other had ever been one of his favorite activities, but he knew that Loki hated it.

“Are you sure?” he asked, smirking. “You don’t want to just beg Heimdall? Or steal a skiff? Or, Norns, just take some horses from the stables -” He stepped closer with every word and put his fingers under Loki’s chin to tilt his face up for a kiss, but Loki pushed him aside and started pacing.

“It musses my hair,” he said petulantly. “And I tire of having my face pressed into your armpit. But it is our only option, as you well know.”

“I won’t let you fall.” Thor couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice. 

“I know that,” Loki scoffed. Sometimes for all his insincerity Loki was as transparent as glass.

“You don’t like being dependent on me,” Thor said, coming up behind Loki and sliding his arms around that slender waist. “I understand.” He buried his face in Loki’s neck and ran his hands up his chest, pulling him in tighter. For half a moment it seemed like Loki might melt, but then he shoved Thor’s hands away and turned.

“You understand less than you think you do.”

Thor laughed. “I think the same could be said for both of us. The difference is I know that I know nothing. Wait here, O Prickly One, and let me don my armor.”

*

The winds were with them and they made excellent time to Gerthe’s mountain hut.

“Hello, you horrible old woman,” Loki said, smiling broadly and kissing her wrinkled cheeks.

Gerthe cackled. “Hello yourself, you awful brat. Have you been terribly naughty?” She cast Thor a sidelong glance.

“As ever,” Loki said, all teeth.

She swept them inside and made them sit and began putting the kettle on for tea. Thor had felt too large for her home last time, and now with Loki there as well there was scarcely room to breathe.

“I see you’re looking hale and hearty,” she said, banging crockery around. “Nothing at all like the near cadaver your brother came to me wringing his hands about.”

“And we have you to thank for it,” Thor interjected.

Loki snorted.

“She’s a terrible, rotten harridan,” he said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms. “There were half a dozen cures she could have given you but she chose _that_ one.”

“It was the best option,” she said airily. “Close to hand, potent, no need to procure expensive or dangerous ingredients -”

“And now you get to lord it over me for the rest of your natural life. Go on.”

“Oh you deserved it and you know it,” she said, dropping Loki’s mug down in front of him. “After that trick you pulled on me before -”

Loki leaned in with his fist on the table, his voice rising in pitch. “Deserved it, did I?”

“And enjoyed it, I daresay, if that bloom on your cheeks is anything to go by -”

They carried on sniping for several minutes and Thor sat back and busied himself drinking tea and watching their not-quite-argument unfold. It amused him to watch Loki verbally spar with someone other than himself, and doubly so since Loki was decrying the cure with one side of his mouth while he had been moaning Thor’s name with the other.

He waited until a lull in which Loki and Gerthe were both glaring at each other to speak again.

“Loki tells me we came here for a purpose,” he said mildly.

“I need my cloak back,” Loki said shortly. “Please,” he added, clearly an afterthought.

Gerthe sighed. “Aye, I’d wager you do. Come on, then. She’s served me well, but it’s time she went home to you.” She rested her raven-headed walking stick against the wall and began struggling up the stairs to the loft.

‘She?’ Thor mouthed, raising his eyebrows. Loki shrugged and followed Gerthe up, Thor at his heels.

A large round window on the far wall let in beams of late afternoon sunlight. An ornately carved wooden chest sat underneath it. It was patterned in flowing whorls that almost resembled faces and locked with a large metal clasp. Gerthe produced a key from somewhere Thor was sure it hadn’t been a moment ago. The lock opened with a quiet _snick_.

“Here she is,” she said, reaching farther into the chest than looked possible from the outside and drawing out a beautiful mass of gleaming black feathers.

Loki took the cloak from her hands and held it in front of him, gently shaking it out until it tumbled to the floor in a cascade of iridescence. The look on his face could only be described as hunger.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” he breathed.

“What does it do?” Thor asked, for it was obvious there was more to this entire display than simple fashion.

Loki’s eyes caught his. “You have your way of flying,” he said. “And I have mine.”

“How long have you had this?” Thor asked, running his hand down it. The feathers were densely packed, thousands upon thousands of them. It felt almost like stroking a living thing.

“Long enough. I don’t advertise it.”

“Clearly.”

“Come,” Loki said, draping the cloak around his shoulders and striding down the stairs.

“Do you need any help down?” Thor inquired, turning to Gerthe.

“Pfaw,” she said, waving a gnarled hand at him. “The day I can’t get up and down my own stairs is the day they put me on a flaming boat.”

Loki was waiting for them impatiently outside, his mouth turned down at the corners.

“I must go quickly,” he said. “Alone. I will be much faster if I’m by myself. Amora has had months since my rescue to hide. The sooner I can get started finding her, the better.”

“Ah, Amora,” Gerthe said, leaning on her stick. “So she’s behind this, eh? We go back a ways. Give her my regards. Preferably with the pointy end of your knife.”

One side of Loki’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Thank you, Gerthe. I believe I am once more in your debt.”

“I’ll put it on your tab,” she winked. “And I’ll leave you two to it. Come here and give us another kiss, though. It’s not every day I get to put my hands on such a gorgeous young man.”

“I didn’t know you had such a friend,” Thor murmured once Gerthe was back inside her hut.

“There are a great many things you don’t know about me,” Loki said with a mocking lift of his brow. “And I shan’t share them all with you just because you’ve had your cock in me.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Thor laughed. “Will you return for me once you find Amora? I believe I have a vow of vengeance to uphold. Ymir’s bones and so forth.”

That earned him one of Loki’s rare true smiles.

“Yes. Be ready for me, we may need to leave at a moment’s notice.”

Before Thor could say anything, Loki lifted his arms to the sides and _jumped_. To Thor’s unmagical eyes it looked like he simultaneously did a somersault in midair and also shrank, and suddenly a magpie was winging its way towards the sky.

Thor returned to the palace to hunker down and wait.

*

Eir accosted him when Loki had been gone for a week.

“Prince Loki has not checked in with us lately,” she said curtly. “Do you know his whereabouts?”

“I do not.”

“He was at death’s door scarcely a fortnight ago, he should not be out gallivanting yet.”

“Eir, if you’ve found some potion to feed my brother that would make him listen to reason, I would scour the Nine Realms for him myself and feed it to him by force to make him come back. But alas.” He shrugged apologetically. “He tells me no more than he tells you.”

“Something is going on between you two,” she said. “I don’t like it.”

Thor smiled. “You don’t have to.”

*

Thor spent two more weeks sitting on his hands and dreaming of all the different ways he’d like to fuck his brother when he got back. His body had grown so accustomed to finding release every day, often multiple times, that he felt its restless tug almost constantly.

Would they even continue? Loki had given him no straight answer. Thor would not love Loki the less should he not wish to, but he would miss it terribly. It was starting to feel _necessary_ , like eating or breathing.

Thor was stripping for bed one night when a magpie lighted on his balcony. It fluttered to the ground and hopped over to tap at the windowed door.

Thor opened it and Loki strode into the room, shaking his arms out.

“Were you successful?” Thor asked. He’d opened his mouth to continue speaking, but Loki reached up and grabbed him by the hair and pulled him into a hard, messy kiss, then shoved him away.

“Get dressed,” he said huskily. “I found her.”

*

They hurtled through the air side by side, Thor’s path straight and true, Loki’s bobbing and wheeling. 

Thunderer and Trickster landed together in a clearing in the moonlit forest.

“Her skiff is there, do you see?” Loki whispered, gesturing to what looked like nothing.

“No,” Thor said, but then his eyes made out the faintest shimmer at the edge of the trees. “Yes. A glamour?”

“Mm. Let’s disable it, shall we?”

For some minutes, Loki fussed at the seemingly empty air, his eyes slightly unfocused as he looked through the glamour. He jumped back when Mjolnir smashed into the craft right next to his head.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“You were taking too long,” Thor shrugged. “It’s disabled now.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “No finesse at all.”

“Come,” Thor said, making for the far edge of the clearing. “Let us root her out.”

Amora had literally gone to ground, burrowing into the earth like a fox. The entrance to the cave she was calling her home was little more than a jagged gash in the forest floor nearly hidden in the undergrowth. They entered it quietly, making no more sound than the smallest of field mice. A short narrow path opened into a larger cavern; a dying fire throwing crackling sparks provided enough illumination to just make out the scattered signs of recent habitation. A pile of rumpled blankets marked Amora’s recently vacated sleeping place.

She was waiting for them.

A jet of green fire just barely missed Thor’s head. It was a different green from Loki’s magic, tinged with yellow and _feeling_ different somehow, slightly wilder and sharper, more cruel.

“Just come out!” Loki called, his voice echoing weirdly from the cavern walls. “You are no match for me and my brother combined.”

Amora’s high laughter seemed to come from everywhere at once. “I’ll take my chances.”

A second jet of green fire singed the edge of Thor’s cape. He threw Mjolnir in the direction it had come from, shattering rock on impact, and Amora’s laugh echoed again. He spun in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint the source of the laughter and the fire.

“She has no honor,” Thor said, holding out his hand for Mjolnir to return. “Your foolish plan came to naught!” he cried out louder. “For Loki is restored and the realm has not gone to war!”

“Less talk, more smashing,” Loki said through his teeth.

“War? What are you talking about?” Amora shimmered into view, sitting on a rock outcropping with her legs crossed nonchalantly.

“Your setup on Nidavellir -” Thor began, and Amora threw her head back and _guffawed_.

“ _My_ setup on Nidavellir? You mean _Loki’s_ setup. I merely turned his own trap on him.”

“His own -” Thor turned to look at Loki, who was clenching his jaw spasmodically.

“It was only because you double crossed me,” he spat out.

“Which I did because I knew _you_ were going to double cross _me_ , don’t deny it,” Amora said, leaning forward to look down at them. “A good offense is the best defense.”

“This - you - “ Thor sputtered, foundering in all this new information. How far back did these two lunatics go? He pointed his hammer at Amora. “ _You_ still imprisoned and tortured my brother, and for this you must pay.” He pointed it at Loki. “And _you_ , you lied to me.”

Loki shrugged dismissively. “It may have escaped your notice, _brother_ , but lying is in my nature. It’s what I _do_.”

Thor ground his teeth. “We need to talk later,” he said.

“Yes, later,” Loki said, diving to the side as Amora almost lazily threw another green bolt at them.

Knives materialized in his hands and Thor raised Mjolnir and the battle was begun in earnest.

Amora put up a good fight, but in truth she _was_ no match for the Sons of Odin combined.

In the end, Thor held her pinned to the ground by the simple expedient of setting Mjolnir on her chest and then stepping on her hands so she couldn’t gesture and use her magic. She glared at them furiously, covered in rock dust and blood, her hair slightly burned at the ends.

“She is yours,” Thor said to Loki.

Loki did something with his hands at the level of his waist, and a dull gray iron collar appeared. He snapped it around Amora’s neck with a vicious twist.

“You may let her up,” he said, his eyes glittering, and Thor reluctantly stepped back. “I’ve cut her off from her magic. It’s the same metal she used to chain me up. I revisited my dear old cell and collected it myself.” He nudged her with his toe and she spat at him. He squatted down next to her face and squeezed her cheeks with one hand. “You’ll be my prisoner now. I’ll keep you locked up just like you kept me locked up. Perhaps I’ll feed you, perhaps I won’t. Maybe I’ll use you as a footstool, or make you lick my boots clean -”

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor said, horrified. “You cannot. We swore vengeance, not...whatever this is.”

“I can,” Loki said, rising and meeting Thor’s gaze angrily. “And I will.”

“This is slavery! Torture!” Thor cried. “Kill her if you like, that is your due. Or take her back to the palace and throw her in the dungeons for her crimes.”

“She will suffer as I suffered,” Loki said, stepping closer, his eyes sparking furiously. “Or have you forgotten how you found me?”

“Please, brother,” Thor said. “Listen to reason. This is madness.”

“This is revenge.”

“I won’t let you do this.”

“You cannot stop me. You will not stop me.”

Thor felt anger clawing at his throat, threatening to spill. He had never liked being told what he would or would not do.

“I won’t?” he growled.

“No, you won’t!”

They were barely a handspan apart from each other at this point, close enough to feel the spittle flying from each other’s outraged lips.

“I will take her and I will do as I please with her, I will lock her in a chest and only take her out when I feel like making her cry, and then lock her back up until she’s wallowing in her own mess -”

“ENOUGH Loki!” Thor roared, grabbing him by the neck, and it was only then that he realized that in his anger he had called Mjolnir to his hand.

Mjolnir was in his hand. Which meant Amora was -

White-hot pain seared through his belly and Thor looked down stupidly to see the point of a blade sticking out of his front.

“Oh,” he said, and collapsed. Her magic may have been fettered, but her hands apparently worked just as well as usual.

The cry that ripped from Loki’s throat was gratifying in its despair, Thor thought dimly. Loki was spun around as the feather cloak was torn from his shoulders, and then Amora was backing away from him, one hand held out in warning.

“You can save him or you can chase me, but you can’t do both,” she said.

Loki took one abortive step towards her, but then stopped and looked helplessly back at Thor. His shoulders slumped.

“I hate you,” he said to Amora, his tone conversational. “Truly and completely.”

Amora whirled the cloak around her own shoulders and took off with a buffet of wings. Loki was at Thor’s side in two steps, yanking the blade from his back, running shaking hands over the gaping wound. The puddle of blood under them was growing alarmingly huge.

“Thank you,” Thor said.

“Shut up.” Loki closed his eyes and placed his hands over the exit wound. They began to glow a deep familiar green and Thor felt the pain begin to subside and his skin begin to knit back together. “There,” Loki said at last, breathing heavily. “The things I do for you.”

Thor sat up gingerly and poked his finger into the hole in his armor. His flesh was as good as new but he would need to have a word with the smith when they got home. His armor should not have been able to be pierced so easily.

“It’s only because you love me so much,” Thor said fondly.

“Shut up.”

“So terribly much.”

“Shut up.”

“And how truly selfless you are, willing to abandon your demented revenge fantasies merely to save your own brother’s life -”

“Shut _up_ ,” Loki growled, rising to his feet and beginning to pace.

“I am grateful,” Thor said, tone growing more serious. “Don’t think I’m not.” He got to his feet and caught Loki by the arm. “Come here.” He pulled Loki into an embrace.

“Stop,” Loki said. “We needn’t do that any more.”

“But don’t you want to?” Thor moved his hand up to cup Loki’s neck. “What we had was -”

“It was expedient is what it was,” Loki said, closing his eyes.

“You don’t believe that. Else you just would have had me use your mouth and be done with it.”

Loki exhaled a soft sigh as Thor leaned in to kiss his neck.

“You’re disgusting and covered in blood,” he complained as Thor mouthed his way up Loki’s jaw to his lips.

“Mm, so are you,” he pointed out. “Come, you want this as much as I do.” He pulled them flush together, pushing his thigh between Loki’s legs. Fighting had always stirred both his blood and his loins and today was no exception. He wanted to give it an outlet. Needed to. Needed to with _Loki_.

“Are you just trying to make me say it out loud?”

“Yes,” Thor said, reaching down to squeeze Loki’s ass.

“Fine,” Loki said irritably. “Yes, I want you to fuck me. _Norns_.”

Thor didn’t need to be told twice.

Afterwards, they made their way out of the cave and into the predawn light.

Thor smirked.

“What?”

“You’re going to have to fly with me,” Thor said. “The entire way home.”

Loki made an irritated noise with his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“I can’t believe she took my cloak,” he said bitterly.

“You might have deserved it a little,” Thor said. Loki glared at him and he laughed. “We’ll get it back though, Eventually. With no threats of enslavement and torture this time.”

“Yes yes, how noble you are,” Loki said, waving his hand. “Such a worthy fucker of brothers.”

His face broke into a sudden smile.

“What now?” Thor asked.

“The collar I put on her,” Loki said. “I added a few extra enchantments to it.” He started to laugh. “I hope she has a good time being covered in boils for the next two weeks.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. I also made it so that every time she tries to complain that she’ll begin reciting bad love poetry instead.”

Thor laughed too, which set Loki off again, until they were falling against each other cackling.

“Shall we?” Thor said finally, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and holding his arm out wide for Loki to tuck into his side. “I’ll try not to muss your hair.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Aye. Let’s go home.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you guys had as much fun as I did. :D


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